


Register Three

by ItsNotEasyBeingQueen



Category: Glee
Genre: Au first meeting, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 10:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20375485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsNotEasyBeingQueen/pseuds/ItsNotEasyBeingQueen
Summary: On a quick trip to the grocery store, Blaine doesn’t expect to keep running into the same handsome stranger as he shops.  If only he didn’t keep making a fool out of himself at every turn.





	Register Three

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely and talented Roxymusicandlayers on her birthday. Happy happy, my friend!

Blaine dashed into the grocery store, snagging a hand basket from the stack near the door and making a beeline for the produce department. He approached the display of apples and scanned the area for the plastic bag dispenser. That’s when he saw…_him_.

He was tall and lean, with hair swept high off his forehead in a way that nearly defied gravity. A pair of dark sunglasses was hooked over the collar of his black t-shirt. The shirt appeared to be for some band, but only a portion of it was visible underneath the fitted leather jacket. Tight black pants with a variety of zippers and straps hugged his long, long legs, ending in a pair of well-worn but perfectly stylish black boots. A couple of bracelets peeked out from the cuff of one sleeve, a combination of silver and leather that complimented the studded belt around his waist.

Blaine was awestruck, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. He had an open mind and an appreciation for a variety of style choices, but like anyone else, he had his preferences when it came to whom he found attractive. This man checked absolutely zero percent of those boxes. Blaine was normally drawn to the clean-cut, fashionable type (earning him the nickname “Blanderson” from his friend Santana). This vision in black was anything but bland.

Overwhelmed, he actually swayed on his feet, reaching out a hand to steady himself. Had he thought about it first, he would have realized that steadying oneself on a bin of loose apples was not the best of ideas.

The rumble of rolling fruit drew his attention away from the dark angel by the organic peppers. He stopped the avalanche of apples just in time, holding his hands out to ensure everything was settled before righting himself once more. 

Blaine bit his lower lip self-consciously. Great. Mr. Gorgeous had probably seen his display of foolish clumsiness and was most likely laughing or rolling his eyes in derision by now. Heart in his throat, Blaine chanced a look up and saw…nothing. There was no sign of him anywhere. Sighing, Blaine yanked a bag from the dispenser and moved to the display of pears. The apples had lost their allure for today.

Moments later, Blaine whizzed down the canned food aisle seeking a jar of artichoke hearts. Jar in hand, he moved to set it in his basket and continue on in search of the next item on his list when who should be walking toward him but the guy from the produce department. He froze like the clichéd deer in headlights, his mind unable to decide whether to turn and run in the opposite direction or walk ahead and try to pass nonchalantly. The only muscle movement he seemed capable of was to unceremoniously drop the jar into his basket with a surprisingly loud _thunk_. His moment of otherwise complete stillness proved to be long enough for the man to make the briefest of eye contact, then continue right past him.

Blaine didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. 

The best course of action, he decided, was to pick up the last item on his list and get out of the store as quickly as possible without embarrassing himself in front of this handsome stranger any further. His walk to the cheese section was narrated by his own internal dialogue, most of which consisted of statements chiding himself for his silly behavior. After all, odds were the beautiful stranger hadn’t noticed him in the produce department at all, and simply threw a mindless glance over him when they passed in the canned foods because he happened to be in his path. _People pay a lot less attention to you than you think, Blaine,_ his inner voice scoffed.

He navigated the cheese section without incident and high-tailed it to the self-checkout, where his luck ran out for good.

First, he rang the jar of artichoke hearts, which he fumbled and juggled and very nearly dropped twice. Then, of course, the plastic grocery bag wouldn’t open easily, so cue more fumbling. Having finally deposited the jar safely (silencing the irritating computer voice that kept blaring “Please place your item in the bag” over and over again), he picked up the cheese wedge. Naturally, he’d picked out one with a wrinkle across the bar code, so it wouldn’t scan. He pushed the button for an attendant, and moved on to the pears. Checking closely for the produce code on the sticker, he placed the bag of pears on the scanner and deftly typed in the wrong number on the screen. He glared in frustration at the blinking light which was supposed to magically summon an employee like some discount Bat-signal. Looking around, he finally spotted said employee – a middle-aged woman who clearly had “help bumbling customers” as the number one item on her To Don’t List for the day – meandering towards him. 

A sudden chill ran through him like an ice cube down his spine. He slowly rotated his head to the left to peek at the line forming behind him. Oh. Oh, _no_.

Sure enough, waiting back a respectable distance was Mr. Gorgeous Produce and Canned Goods himself. Worse yet, he was staring directly at Blaine. His head was tilted slightly to the side, and one corner of his mouth curved up gently. Blaine swiftly turned back to the register, uncertain if that was a small smile or an annoyed sneer. He wondered fleetingly if there was any chance a sinkhole could open beneath his feet and swallow him whole. Unfortunately, the foundation of the store showed no signs of giving way to any such seismic disturbance.

He profusely thanked the annoyed but efficient grocery store employee after she took care of his cheese and fruit catastrophe, and rushed to pay before things could deteriorate further. Thankfully, one small star shone in his favor when his debit card payment processed correctly. Small miracles.

_Okay. Don’t look back. Take your bag, and carry it out of here with whatever tiny shred of dignity you’ve got left._ Those were the last words he thought before he heard the crash. After all, a crash is what one hears when a grocery bag rips at the seam and a jar of artichoke hearts shatters at one’s feet. 

Time slowed down. Blaine was aware of the oil from the broken jar running across the floor, the bag of pears and the wedge of cheese lying helplessly nearby. He vaguely heard the annoyed middle-aged woman page for a cleanup at Register Three. Above all, he was positive he could _feel_ the judgmental eyes of the handsome stranger boring into his soul from behind. This was it. This was what it felt like to die of humiliation. _Blaine Anderson, age 25, died at Register Three from acute embarrassment. Survived by three pears and a wedge of Gouda._

“I swear they use the cheapest bags they can find here. That’s why I bring my own,” a sweet, lilting voice said. Suddenly, a reusable shopping bag holding pears and a wedge of cheese appeared in front him. 

Blaine stirred from his trauma-induced trance and was met with the most breathtaking blue eyes he’d ever seen. He hadn’t thought it possible for the man he’d been simultaneously watching and avoiding to be any more attractive, but he somehow improved upon closer inspection. Even more remarkable, those incredible eyes were looking at him rather kindly, while perfect lips sloped into a soft, warm smile. 

“It’s okay. You can take it. I brought an extra,” the man encouraged, nudging the bag towards him.

_Say something. Say something, you idiot!_ “Th-thank you. Blaine. My name is Blaine,” he blurted out, offering his hand and then grabbing the bag awkwardly instead. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Kurt,” Mr. Gorgeous Produce...no, _Kurt_…said with a light chuckle that made Blaine’s heart pound.

“So,” Kurt continued, taking a gentle hold of Blaine’s arm and guiding him to one side as a teenager with a mop arrived to attend to the mess on the floor, “I guess you’re short one jar of artichoke hearts, Blaine.” He looped his arm through Blaine’s and began walking him back towards the canned food aisle. “What do you say we get you another one? Then I can pay for my things,” he swung his own basket lightly, “and maybe I can walk you to the coffee shop next door.” He leaned in close and whispered, “If you don’t mind, I’ll check that the lid is on tight before you drink any, though, okay?”

Blaine grinned sheepishly and nodded, words catching in his throat as he tried to remember to breathe.

Kurt graced him with a dazzling smile. He plucked not one, but two jars of artichoke hearts off the shelf and placed them in his basket. “Just in case,” he said with a wink when he selected the second jar. “Oh, by the way,” he commented off-handedly as he led them back towards the checkout lines, “you’ll have to forgive my outfit. I went in for an audition this afternoon, and sort of dressed for the part. I’m usually a bit more Alexander McQueen and a bit less, well, _this_,” he gestured vaguely towards himself without releasing Blaine’s arm from his own. “Is there anything else you need?” he asked.

Blaine had no trouble finding his voice this time, pulling Kurt’s arm a little closer and responding, “No, Kurt. I think I found everything I was looking for.”

**Author's Note:**

> May all of your shopping trips turn out this well! In the meantime, be kind to yourselves, and to one another. 


End file.
